Sunday, June 30, 2013

We met each other on the internet.I was asking a question about stock wash sales on one of The
Motley Fool’s message boards.This
was back in September of 1999. JT (then, and for most people, he was called “JP” –
later, I would call him JT) answered my question and I replied:

hmmmm.
i think it was more 'observation', than 'advice'....
either way, you're free to find it useless.

Who could have known then that we would become the best of friends?
Not just on the Internet but also in person. I’m sure we did not.But we had so much in common.We were like two peas in a pod.It was inevitable.

Both of us were born in September in even-numbered years (though
I was several years older).We
were both left-handed.Both
introverts.Both of us political
liberals. Both drove BMWs.We both had a special affinity for animals
that not everyone seems to have.We
both made our living as computer programmers – though he had a law degree
(among other degrees).Both sets
of our parents were married in Tampa, Florida – at different times and did not
know each other.Neither of us
liked big cities.We didn’t like
scallops.We both loved nature and
adored animals.What are the odds,
right?

What a strange chance that we two, so much alike yet so far apart
geographically, would come to know each other. I lived in Alabama and he in California. And what were the odds we would have
become the very best of friends?

In Alabama September, 2000

He came to Alabama first.He had just picked up his new BMW at the South Carolina BMW plant
and was going to be driving it back across the country to California.

We met in person for the first time at the Jack Daniels
distillery in Tennessee, toured the facility, and then drove back to our house
– which he promptly named “Tara” – not far over the state line into
Alabama.After that, I flew to
California three times from Alabama to visit him.Then we moved from Alabama to Washington State and JT came
up there for a visit.It was on
this visit that I took the wonderful photo of him that you see at the very top
of this blog post.I had arranged
a whale-watching tour up to the San Juan Islands with lunch in Friday
Harbor.It was a wonderful day.

His mother, a lovely and wise woman, had warned him not to
come to someone’s house that he met on the Internet before he came for that
first meeting.She was afraid we
would knock him out (or worse) and take his new car. But rather than kill him,
we fed him.We took him out to
Miss Mary Bobo’s boarding house restaurant in Lynchberg, Tennessee for lunch –
where he proceeded to pilfer beef from my plate.We took him to a Japanese restaurant .Initially, he had said there was no way
a Japanese restaurant in Alabama (of all places) could be any good.After eating there, he declared it one
of the best he’d ever experienced.

Well-fed and safe at "Tara", Alabama, September 2000

I met his mother on my trips out to visit him.I loved her instantly.She was just a lovely woman – with an
absolutely wonderful rose garden behind her immaculate home.She died of cancer not long after one
of my trips out here.But I still
remember her and think of her fondly.

JT's mom in 2002 -- JT in Alabama jacket I gave him

It was on my first trip to visit him that he gave me my
second bear (the first was a BMW bear he gave me when he came to “Tara”).He put me in the spare bedroom where he
had provided a blow-up mattress which was, surprisingly, quite
comfortable.The only problem was
that I was unused to the chilly California nights and I nearly froze to death
that first night.I told him about
it the next morning and off we went to the mall to buy blankets for me.While there I spied the cutest little
stuffed bear and mentioned how adorable he was.JT bought it for me.Of course I still have it – along with the other small, stuffed animals
he gave me over the years.

The “bears” came about because at the time we met he claimed
to have an invisible friend named “Bear” whom he had met at the Four Corners a long
time ago.Bear was about 900 years
old and was his constant companion for years when I first knew him.He would often sign his name “bear” on
cards and on his posts at The Motley Fool and for a long time the people there
called him “Bear”.

On one trip out to see him, he was going to take me up a
mountain to an observatory.On the
way up the mountain on a little two lane narrow road with absolutely no safety
rails on the side (what was California thinking?) and hundreds of feet drop on
the passenger side, I began to panic.I drew in sharp breaths and kept leaning away from my side of the car
nearly into the driver’s seat on top of him.I involuntarily let out a scream or two and he informed me at
one point that I had so frightened Bear that he leapt into the back seat and
covered his eyes with his paws.I
suggested that we find a place to turn around, forget about the observatory,
and get back down the mountain posthaste.And that is what we did.

Somewhere along the line – years later – and after a lot of
health issues, he announced that Bear was no longer around.He had gone, he said.I was a little sad about this because I
knew his health was continuing to deteriorate and he just wasn’t his same old
self.

On one trip out to visit JT – the second one, I think – he
was building a squirrel house.But
he was not fond of heights and was loathe to climb up the ladder to place it onto the tree. So I
volunteered.We attached a rope to
the squirrel house and I climbed the ladder with the end of the rope.I tossed it over a limb and let it fall
back down to him and he hoisted the heavy house up to where I was so I could
nail it in place.Unfortunately,
as I was maneuvering the house, I lost hold of it and it went crashing
down.I yelled and he just barely made
it out of the way.Lucky for
me, I still had my friend and the house was eventually nailed safely in
place.Before I even arrived back
home he sent email telling me that squirrels had already moved into it.Here’s a photo that HE took that
day and staged to make it appear I had dropped the house smack on him and
his…er….ruby slippers:

The squirrel house was eventually nailed into place,
however, and he took this photo to prove it:

On another trip I slept on the same blow-up mattress as
before but this time it sprang a leak and I found myself sleeping on the hard floor. The next day he blew the mattress back
up and glued the air hole on it shut.
I have no idea what ever became of that mattress after that. Fun memory. Silly.
Wonderful.

Then there was the time we went out to eat at an Italian
restaurant. I ordered
spaghetti and he ordered calamari.
His calamari turned out to be little baby squid with little legs still
on them. Ewww. I later wrote a haiku about this:

My dear friend and I

Dine – he, on
calamari.

I try not to look.

JT and I spoke to each other almost every single day of our
lives on the phone.He had a voice
like velvet and velvety brown eyes to match.He liked to pretend he was a curmudgeon, but he wasn’t. Though if you rubbed him wrong he
could hold a grudge forever.Or
maybe he was just consistent.

We talked about everything.We talked about the TV shows we watched and who we liked and
who we hoped would get knocked off the show.We talked about politics and cabbages and kings.Once I listened while he patiently proved
to me step-by-step that there were just as many even numbers as there were
numbers.I can’t remember the
proof now, but I “got it” at the time.

We understood each other’s jokes and aggravations.If I was upset about something he knew
just the thing to say to put me back on track.

He both recognized and respected my intelligence, and I, of
course, thought he was one of the smartest people I had ever known.He was also one of the gentlest and
kindest people I’ve ever known.The hardest thing for me now is suppressing that desire to reach for the
phone to “talk to JT.”

When he was out and about (yet always close to home) he took
the time to stop and actually converse with street beggars and he always gave
them a five if he had it on him.Before his favorite coffee stand closed due to the economy, he was such
a well-known customer there that by the time his car pulled to the window the
baristas already had his coffee ready and waiting for him.He was sad when they closed and he had
to find another source for his morning coffee.

He fed the birds and the squirrels – spent lots of money on
huge bags of peanuts for them – and he more often than not named his furry and
feathered friends.One jay named
“Larry” and his mate “Mo” recognized JT’s dark blue BMW before it could even
get parked in the parking lot where he worked back before he was laid off.The economy again.They would fly down and take peanuts
from his hands.

He always carried peanuts in his car and in his pockets in
case he encountered a crow or a jay – two of the smartest birds on the planet –
or a squirrel.

One day a cat came to live with him.She just moved in.And that was that.At first he resisted.He felt a cat didn’t need a “sick old guy” so he got a collar for her
and put a note on it to whoever might be her owner telling them to please keep
their cat at home and indoors.

But
she came back.And came back.And the note had never been unfurled
and read.She did need the sick
old guy and, though he didn’t realize it yet, he needed her as much as she
needed him.So he bought a cat
carrier and took her to the vet and had her spayed (after finally learning she was a she and not a he) and micro-chipped.Many, many dollars later he declared,
“She’s MY cat now.”

Riki

And that was her lucky day because she had been homeless and
probably mistreated before she found him.And she was good for him, too, because he was never in the best of
health the entire time I knew him and she made his life better – much better –
there was never any doubt about that. She had the best food, the best toys, the best of
everything.She had her nails
clipped at the vet because he couldn’t handle her well enough to do it
himself.If she accidentally got
outside, he would worry himself sick until he got her back. I can still hear
his voice on the phone saying, “There’s my girl!” when she had, presumably,
just come into the room where he was. He absolutely adored and doted on
her.

Now she has lost him, too.As I write this she is still in the house and is being cared
for by a person who comes in to feed her and clean the litter pan and plays
with her for a few minutes.But he
won’t be coming home to her now.And she needs a new home.I
hope she will find one where she will be cared for as well as he cared for her.

Riki

A recent special memory was when he came up to visit us here
in Santa Rosa after we had moved to California.We were going to watch the College Football Championship
game together.He got the biggest
kick out of me cheering for Alabama as they trounced Notre Dame to win the
championship.We took him out to
Cattlemen’s restaurant for steak that day, too.He thoroughly enjoyed that.That’s the last time he felt well enough to come up.

He had had many spells of bad health.Many trips to the hospital.This last trip was due to a tiny spot
of esophageal cancer – discovered extremely early so we all thought he was very
lucky.The surgery itself had gone
well.But his other problems –
heart, kidney, diabetes – made the recovery very hard.It was difficult for him to speak and
his smart phone keyboard was too small for him to manage under his medicated
condition so his messages to me were garbled – sometimes beyond
recognition.Other times I could
make out what he was trying to say.

I had spent the morning of 10 June 2013 in the kitchen
baking bread.Once the bread was
finished I was tired and told my husband that I didn’t want to mess with lunch and
so we went down to the Chinese restaurant on the corner at the next main
intersection from our house.We
had just been served cups of tea (the day was unusually chilly here) and our
soup when the phone rang.It was
JT’s sister.I thought she was
just calling to say she had seen him and he looked good.I had posted at the Motley Fool about
baking bread being not cooking but an art.I said “There’s just something magic about bread.”And he had answered on his cell phone
from his hospital bed:

why it's called Breakfast
of Champian!z

This would be his last post at The Motley Fool.It would be the last communication I
would ever have from him.I
answered the phone and his sister said she had some bad news.I leaped from the booth where we were
sitting and started for the door.I heard the words “collapsed” – “could not revive” – “passed” –
“autopsy” – and I lost it right there on the shopping center sidewalk.My husband, bless him, was quickly there beside me but I was like a
wild woman so great was the pain.So hard was the news.I had
answered his last post at the Motley Fool saying:

LOL!
Sounds like you are feeling little bit better. :)

He had told me how scared he was before going in for the surgery and
when we visited him for the first time after the surgery he confided to me how
happy he was when he woke up to find he was still here.

I really thought he was feeling better.Then, while I was baking bread, he was
in dialysis.When they brought him
back to his room….

His sister has since called and told me the autopsy revealed
that he died of a massive heart attack.There was blockage in the left anterior descending artery.Completely blocked.

Introverts don’t have tons of friends. They are hard to come by – especially
for someone as old as I am now.JT was the only friend I had who called
me and to whom I spoke on the phone nearly every day of my life since we met
each other.

My phone now is silent.My special email folder just for him no longer receives any
email.I cannot bring myself to
remove his name from my phone or my email.I will probably never remove them.

My heart is literally shattered into bits.My feet are lead blocks – so heavy are
they to lift and push forward for each step.My thoughts won’t keep still.I see him in my mind. I hear his voice.I feel his hand in mine.I
feel that arm-around snug hug he always gave me.The last time I ever saw him was on Saturday, 8 June
2013.We held hands and I sat on
the side of his bed and stroked his forehead.I was so hopeful that he would recover from the surgery and
be home soon.

I think, in moments, that I may die, too.But I have a wonderful husband who was
willing – even suggested – that he would go down and stay with JT to help him when
he got out of the hospital just to be sure he was ok for the first couple of
weeks – because, he said, JT was family.And I have a kitty of my own who was
named, as it happens, by JT.These
people love me even when I’ve lost my dearest friend. And they have watched me cry
rivers of tears over the past days.And they’ve been there for me:my husband, Lawrence, ever patient – and Sylvie, concerned that “mommie”
is acting unhappy, curling up beside me either in bed or on the sofa.Comfort I badly needed.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.This is the hardest loss I’ve ever
experienced.Losing my daddy
nearly killed me because he died relatively young.But you expect to lose your parents at some point in your
life.You don’t expect to lose the
best friend you’ve ever had.

I’d give anything I have to have him back again – for him to
have his life back again.But I
have to keep pushing those lead feet ahead of me.I have to keep getting up and going through the motions. I have to keep breathing.

He used to tell me, “Take
what you get and leave the rest.” In
this case, it’s very hard to do.But if there is one thing to be even slightly cheerful about through all
of this, it’s that he did not have to end his days in the chaos and torment of
a nursing home.I can’t think of
many things worse for an introvert to have to endure.I’m just so glad that he remained independent – the way he
liked it – to the end.

He also used to tell me, “Everything dies.”But
that’s the one I never liked hearing.

I’m so very lucky that I knew JT and had him in my life for
so many years.

I learned so much from this wonderful, funny, brilliantly intelligent,
gentle, perfectly lovely man.Now
I hope I can put it all into practice.One thing is certain:He
will always be a part of me no matter where I am or what I do.

You were the best, John-Paul Thomas.You were the very best.And I loved you dearly.

JT in his own backyard in 2003

JT in Muir Woods

JT with the painting I gave him

JT in his backyard

At Ano Nuevo Park

With, as always, his coffee

With my beloved old cat, Cookie - at "Tara" in September, 2000

With my husband, Lawrence, in Port Townsend, WA, in 2005

In 2001. I always loved this photo because it was taken when he was in better health.

I'm going to try to add here a couple of "movies" I took with my camera. The best is sideways - my fault so please overlook. But these are the only recordings I have of his voice and they are like gold to me.

Note: The rose I use here at the top of my blog is from the bushes I gave him back in 2003. They were the Habitat for Humanity rose of 2003. But he always called them "Rita Rose" because Rita is my name. Three of the bushes are still in his front yard. One did not survive.

They were, I thought, the most beautiful roses I had ever seen.

Posted here by AngelMay on 17 June 2013

In Memory of John-Paul Thomas, my best and dearest friend.

~

Update: Riki has found a new home and she appears to be very happy there. I am so glad of this and I know that JT would be as well. I can finally put this worry to rest now.

Riki in her new home

Update: On 30 June 2013 my friend was placed to rest in the waters of the San Francisco Bay beside the Golden Gate Bridge. I think I shall never again view this bridge in the same light as before.